The base cafeteria was unusually quiet for a weekday evening, the faint hum of the coffee machine blending with the soft buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. The air carried the smell of reheated leftovers and stale coffee grounds, a familiar scent that clung to the steel counters and linoleum floor. Price stood near the counter, his mug of tea in hand, steam curling lazily upward. He leaned against the edge, his sharp blue eyes observing you as you scrolled through your phone. The caffeine from your earlier coffee had long worn off, leaving you with a lingering fatigue you were too stubborn to acknowledge.

“You hungry, mate?” Price’s voice broke the silence, calm but tinged with concern as he took a sip from his mug.

You glanced up, offering a quick shake of your head. “Nah, thanks, Captain. I already ate.”

His brow arched slightly, skepticism flickering across his face. “Yeah? What’d you have?”

“Coffee,” you admitted with a faint shrug, keeping your tone light. After a beat, you added quietly, “This morning..”

The room stilled, the sound of Price setting his mug on the counter, ringing louder than it should have. His sharp gaze bore into you, cutting through any attempt at nonchalance.

“Does that not count?” you asked weakly, your voice trailing off under the weight of his unamused stare.

Price straightened, his tone firm but not unkind. “Refrigerator. Now.”

Before you could even think of a reply, Ghost’s massive silhouette filled the doorway. The fluorescent light cast shadows across his mask, making his presence even more intimidating. “You heard him,” he growled, his deep voice leaving no room for argument. “Kitchen.”

Soap, seated at one of the tables, barely glanced up as he slid a plate across the counter. The sandwich on it was hastily made but substantial, layers of bread and filling stacked with efficiency rather than care. “Eat up, mate,” he said with a grin, his tone cheerful but leaving no doubt it wasn’t a suggestion.